This poem (and of course its author), and for that matter Vic Raschi as well, come from a remote epoch. Attic Period, evidently.

By the by, Nora and I had a brief exchange, not excluding Vic from the conversation, in an antediluvian posting of this poem, which also has a picture of Vic -- not to mention a picture of Eurydice (and her Orpheus).

And if our friend David Lehman has as we suspect a history of Yankee fanhood, this back-channel tribute to Nora's artistry shows the characteristic grace in defeat of that noble clan (!!) for which Vic Raschi once toiled:

"Dear Tom,

"I love the poetry comic centering on your baseball classicism. To go five for five against Vic Raschi and the Yankees was no mean feat. (And I would say so in your comment field if I knew how to do it.)

"David"

By the by, it really was the case that, along about the Middle Mesozoic Period, I received a postcard from that guy who said Vic Raschi was his neighborhood liquor dealer, Vic knew about the poem and all was definitely copasetic on all fronts. Those were the days.

Thanks fellows. It must be the week of the World Mythological Baseball Classic.

Rumour has it the Dutch look good, it's reported they've been pounding spikes into their wooden shoes (utilizing the stiff upper lip -- or was that the ever courageous French?) and taking batting practise against windmills (not hard for us to identify with that, right Sancho?).